


Alcohol Isn’t Always Bad For You

by TheGreatGodApollo



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bruises, Drinking, Hangover, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inns, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Nilfgaard, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sexual Abuse, Torture, Vomiting, baths, post mountain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27899935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatGodApollo/pseuds/TheGreatGodApollo
Summary: Geralt tensed, another one of his suspicions was being confirmed now, and he could feel hot acid rising in his stomach. Vomit.“Where do you want me?” His bard asked meekly. “Do you want me on my stomach? Or on my back so you can see my pretty face sobbing and begging you to stop?”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 13
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes this is all the work of Nilfgaard as you will see in future chapters... please comment if you want the next chapter too be in yennefer, geralts, or jaskier’s pov! please also leave constructive criticism since this is my first time writing this type of fan fiction 😭
> 
> (I’ll add tags as i go)

“Jaskier?” Geralt entered the inn he and the bard were staying at. His contract had taken longer than normal, leaving him battling off monsters for more than three weeks. Usually, he would enter the inn to Jaskier’s clear singing voice and the strum of his lute, entertaining the guests in the bar section while jumping onto tables and chairs. But it was dead silent now, void of any singing. The only sounds being of the people chatting at the bar and quiet whispering of the inn’s staff. Jaskier had been fine when he had left, still his annoying chippery self. Tonight though, Gerald had a creeping sense of foreboding.

That’s when Geralt realized that something was very off. Walking around and scanning the inn, he saw a flash of familiar blond hair and lean fingers bent over a table in a booth. His pale face was flushed, and his knuckles were white, clutching a half full glass of ale in front of him. Jaskier’s lute was nowhere in sight, but he still seemed to be singing a soft tune under his breath. Typical.

Geralt weaved through the tables towards the bard, then slid down into the seat opposite him. Jaskier seemed not to have noticed him though, the bard's slim fingers slipping off the damp ale glass too strum onto the table. He wouldn’t even look up at Geralt.

“Jaskier.” Geralt said again, grabbing the hand he was strumming on the table with. The bard flinched back violently, which made icy cold terror rise in Geralt's veins. Jaskier had never flinched like that in his presence. What the _fuck_ had happened when he was gone? Had he ever really forgiven Geralt for what happened at the mountain?

He looked up at Geralt finally, and the first things that the Witcher registered were the dark purple bruises spread along Jaskiers neck, all the way down to his collar bones. The bard's eyes were as blue as ever, but he had dark circles under them, making him look ghostly. And a certain spark in them made Geralt confirm the suspicion he had earlier, his bard was drunk as hell.

Jaskiers eyes parted as he saw the sliver-haired Witcher seated in front of him, his mouth moving into a small o shape. “Mmm. Geralt! Took you long enough.” he leaned back in his seat, his arms crossing over his chest. He squinted. “He said you weren’t coming back!”

“Jaskier what— Who’s _he_?” Geralt stood up, one of his hands twitched, aching too slit the throat of the man who Jaskier was talking about.

The bard slid out of his seat, pushing himself up, only to fall back onto the chair. _Sh_ _it_. He really was wasted. “Yes. _Yes_ , him.” Jaskier averted his eyes, “I was good for... _to_ him.”

That’s it. Geralt grabbed the drunk bard and tossed him over his shoulder, ignoring the strangled slurred protests he gave. The Witcher also ignored the odd looks the guests gave as he walked towards the rooms with Jaskier in tow.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

When inside their rooms, Geralt breathed a sigh of relief to see that nothing was damaged or misplaced. Even Jaskiers lute sat in the corner, untouched. The relief only lasted so few seconds though, as more questions arose in the Witcher’s mind.

Jaskier grabbed the stronger man's arm, attempting to pry himself out of Geralt's grasp. He set the bard down.

Automatically, Jaskier stumbled towards the bed. Taking his shirt off in the process. The vibrant color in the shorter man's face had paled, and his hands were shaking.

Jaskier put his two hands on the soft linen of the bed and turned too face Geralt, the fake lightheartedness in the bards expression melted away now. Replaced with the bitter, raw look of fear. He still wasn’t looking at the Witcher, but at a spot next to him.

Geralt tensed, another one of his suspicions was being confirmed now, and he could feel hot acid rising in his stomach.

“Where do you want me?” His bard asked meekly. “Do you want me on my stomach? Or on my back so you can see my pretty face sobbing and begging you to stop?”

Geralt froze. This was much worse than he had been expecting. Vomit still threatened to spill. He hadn’t had the urge to retch in such a long time, he forgot how amazingly painful it could feel.

“Jaskier. I’m not going too rape you. You're drunk.” The Witcher spoke as softly as he could without grunting. “It’s Geralt? Remember?”

Jaskier’s face twisted.

“No. No, he’s gone. He left me. He _hates_ me. I remember….” Geralt listened to the bard babble out parts and pieces of what happened with the mountain and Nilfgaard. Which made the Witcher’s heart clench with guilt. Had Nilfgaard gotten to him again? Had they somehow found him at this in and taken advantage of him? He swallowed, remembering the beaten up, tired, and utterly ruined version of Jaskier after Nilfgaard had tortured him on behalf of the witcher.

That had ruined Geralt also, remembering the sharp terror filled screams of the bard when he was often plagued of the horrific memories in his sleep. He sighed tightly, knowing these were only assumptions, but he also knew that they were probably damn well near too the fucking truth. Because something was terribly _fucking_ wrong with his bard. And not just the fact that he was drunk.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Finally, not wanting to hear more of Jaskier’s insistent talking, he walked towards him, causing the half undressed bard to stumble back and shut his mouth, curling into the bed frame. Geralt swallowed back hurt, knowing that Jaskier wasn’t technically afraid of him. His bard was never afraid of him.

The Witcher drew the sign of Axii in the air, and said the long awaited words. _“Rest.”_

And Jaskier slumped forward immediately. His eyes rolling back into his head. Geralt quickly scooped him up and threw the sheets over him. The Witcher already knew what he had to do next, no matter how much he was dreading it. He had to contact the only person who could get to the bottom of this. The only person closest too Geralt who could sift through Jaskier’s mind to find the dreaded pieces of information that if he knew about could help his bard recover.

He had too contact Yennefer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow my socials 💞
> 
> Insta: sydneyherondale_ 
> 
> TikTok: simpforjaskierthebard


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if ive got the town names or plot wrong i haven’t watched the show i’ve only read the novels ( a long time ago )😭 I think i’m going to keep writing in geralts pov because it’s quite fun haha. please comment constructive criticism!! EMETEPHOBIA WARNING

Luckily, Yennefer was just a town over in Temeria. The hard part was getting his bard over there with just the help of Roach. Geralt had made the mistake of thinking Jaskier would be completely fine and lucid after he had some rest and gotten the alcohol out of his system.

This was definitely not the case.

He had realized it after Jaskier woke up. The blond haired man had jerked awake after a long night of tossing and turning. Geralt had decided against sleeping in the bed with him, not wanting to trigger any bad memories the bard might have. He had woken up on his bedroll to hear Jaskier retching violently over the edge of the bed on the opposite side of the room. Geralt could only be grateful it didn’t get on him and his bedroll.

Geralt pushed up off of his bedroll quickly, but not too noisily. As to not startle his bard. The witcher sighed and went over to the spill, grabbing a spare rag from the bedside table.

His movements made Jaskier flinch, who was sitting with his arms wrapped tightly around his legs. He was staring intently at Geralt, as if he was studying ever part of him.

He finished cleaning up the mess, throwing the dirty rag into the rubbish bin. He looked back at the bard, who was now staring down at the white sheets under him, one hand was in his mouth, chewing at the nails. Geralt found this rather unusual, as the bard always loudly bragged about his perfectly shaped fingertips. The witcher usually found it annoying as hell.

But now he found himself missing it.

“Stop doing that.” he chided, “You’re going to hurt yourself. And you need a bath, you’ve got puke all over yourself.”

Jaskier immediately stopped biting his nails, his eyes widened in surprise. He made his hand in a fist, sudden frustration leaking into his expression.

“They can’t trick me again. I _know_ you're not real. Don’t tell me what to do.” His sentences were short and fragmented, _nothing_ like the fluid, smooth lilt of past Jaskier's voice. And Geralt guessed he didn’t want to elaborate, as he ended with stuffing his hand in his mouth again.

Geralt’s shoulders bunched. He wanted to get to Yennefer. _Now_. But he knew he couldn’t go logging off the Temeria without proper preparation.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Geralt ordered two bowls of soup and a bath up to their rooms, and watched silently as the staff prepared it.

Jaskier was still seated on the bed in his soiled clothes. Geralt would’ve tried telling him to take them off, but he didn’t want to risk that the bard would think he was trying too rape him again. He had stopped biting his nails at least, and now he was humming quietly and running his fingers along the fabric of the mattress.

He never once looked at Geralt.

Any normal person would’ve thought that the bard was perfectly at ease, but the witcher could tell by the set of his shoulders and the jagged edge of his breaths that he was waiting for something, something that Geralt suspected wasn’t good.

Once the bath was filled with warm water, and the food was seated on the bedside table, he dismissed the maids politely.

Now was the hard part. Getting Jaskier in the bath without having to use Axii on him again. The witcher hated using Axii, it felt inhuman and just wrong.

Geralt started with his first tactic, just telling the bard too get in the bath. It was pretty weak, but he didn’t have any other options right now.

“Get in the bath. The water is getting cold.” he grunted, feeling awkward. “I can leave the room if you want.”

Jaskier kept looking down, continuing his obsession with not looking at the taller man.

“But if you leave the room, how will you grab my neck and hold me under the water until I stop breathing?”

Jaskier asked, as if this was a completely normal question anyone would ask.

The witcher nearly choked on his own breath, and he keeled over in a fit of coughing. More guilt and pain riled up in his gut. This was most definitely Nilfgaardian work, made ten times more horrid than the last.

Geralt tried to contain his anger.

After he composed himself fully, he straightened up. “Jaskier, you know I would never do that to you.” he averted his eyes, he knew his bard wouldn’t believe him, but he felt the need to say it anyways.

“Yes, yes that's what they all say.” Jaskier whispered so low, it was only Geralt's amplified hearing that made it so he heard the comment.

Though Jaskier wasn’t fully into the conversation, well— not as much as he _usually_ was. The witcher was just about ready to give up and use Axii, not thinking the bard would respond well to any of his other methods. But it was also then that Geralt caught where Jaskier’s eyes were drifting whenever the silver-haired man looked away.

The bowl of soup on the bedside table.

 _Ah_.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Geralt hadn’t registered now how skinny his bard had gotten, not that it was any surprise. He had started gaining the weight back after he had first gotten kidnapped. The witcher automatically felt guilty for not realizing it sooner.

He moved over to the bedside table slowly, he had gotten used to walking this way because of Jaskier’s condition.

Immediately, the bard's head snapped up. Following the witcher’s movements intently with his sharp blue eyes.

“Would you like this?” Geralt gestured to the bowl.

Jaskier didn’t say anything, but his eyes seemed the light up and soften.

A nod.

“Fine,” the witcher said, and hoped he wouldn’t regret his next words.

“But you have to get in the bath first.”

The bard froze, and his eyes went hard and defense again.

Geralt stiffened, preparing himself to have to use Axii.

But that didn’t happen. Jaskier leaped off the bed and immediately started prying off his stained clothes, tossing them on the bed. the witcher let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and stepped towards the door.

“I’ll be outside if you need me.” Jaskier didn’t answer. Per Usual.

Geralt stepped into the hallway and softly shut the door behind him. He heard the bards soft humming and feverish scrubbing with a clean rag from through the door. He sighed, leaning against the doorframe. One step was done. Now all he needed to do was to get Jaskier to Temeria in one piece.

And that’s when the witcher made his second mistake.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow my socials 💞
> 
> Insta: sydneyherondale_
> 
> TikTok: simpforjaskierthebard


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAITING I had school work too catch up on so I decided to take an insy wensy break. I will be updating more regularly from now on. Happy reading ! ( sorry if it’s a bit too short for your liking I will try too make them longer in the future ) 
> 
> (In chapter 4 we will get a closer look at Jaskier's past, so stay tuned for more !)

Geralt and Jaskier stood outside next to the stables, well technically, Geralt was the one standing.

Jaskier was laying back first on the grass, arms spread out wide. He was wearing the witcher’s large black shirt, practically a dress on his skinny frame, and plain breeches. Geralt had given the bard his own clothes to put on, only for him to panic and tell the taller man that he didn’t deserve it. He had eaten the stew though, but had to be constantly told by the witcher to slow down.

Geralt hadn’t pushed him, Jaskier had been through enough.

It was late afternoon now, and the witcher was itching to get going. He hadn’t contacted Yennefer to tell her they were coming. He hoped she wouldn’t throw them out like yesterday’s garbage. He was hoping after she heard about their situation she would at least have some sympathy.

“You can take me away now…. i want..”

Jaskiers unsettling mumbling had been going on all afternoon, especially after the witcher practically dragged him out of the inn. He wanted to understand what the other man was saying, but it was all gibberish, nonsense.

“You know they're going to come soon, you know? just wait.” Jaskier rolled over onto his stomach and started picking at grass.

Geralt stopped listening, turning back to Roach. The bard's lute was tied to the saddle, looking abandoned.

The Witcher wondered why Jaskier never played it anymore.

When Geralt finished packing up all of his supplies, the bard walked up behind him, pushing up off the ground. The witcher viewed this as progress, as he would've never done this the night before. Geralt glanced at his bard, there were no more dark lines on his eyes. The purple bruises imprinted on his skin now yellow and almost fully healed from the ointment Geralt put on them when Jaskeir was resting. He could almost believe that everything was normal.

But it wasn't.

_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_ ( an hour later )

The witcher and bard were off, and Geralt expected to get to Temeria in the late afternoon. If he were by himself, or at least had a semi-working bard, he would've guessed he would be there in less than twenty minutes.

By gods, Geralt wished this was the case.

But it wasn't. For one, Jaskier had a limp. Geralt had noticed it last night, but hadn't realized how bad it was. So now, the shorter man was sitting on Roach, his legs swinging over the sides. His hands brushed through the horse's mane affectionately as he bounced up every half step. The witcher had been surprised when Roach had not fussed when he had deposited the bard onto the horses back. He guessed it showed how long him and Jaskier had actually been traveling together.

Geralt’s anxieties about Yennefer had vanished. 

Now, he was dead set on helping his bard.

He wasn't ready for what happened next.

*_*_*_*_*_*_* (50 minutes later)

Jaskier jumped off of Roach’s back, humming and stumbling a little when he landed on his bad leg. They were at Yennefers now, standing outside of her cottage. The bard seemed to be in a good mood though. Thirty minutes into the trip he had made a flower crown that now sat on top of his blond head.

Geralt went to Yennefer's door, weaving through the dead plants and bushes.

 _At least now Im sure this is actually the sorceress house and not some strangers,_ Geralt though.

He knocked.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Still no answer.

_“Why are you knocking so much?”_

The Witcher jumped. Jaskier had come to stand next to him at some point, and was staring at the door.

“Usually you don’t have to knock. You have keys. Why don’t you have keys anymore?” He stopped talking abruptly, as if chiding himself for opening his mouth to speak in the first place.

“Hmm.” Geralt grunted, anger churned in his chest. “Jaskier I don’t think—

The taller man didn’t have time to finish his thought, as a loud banging was heard from inside of the house. His bard flinched, slowly turning in on himself.

 _Shit_. Maybe he _should_ have contacted Yennefer first. The door swung open aggressively and both the men had to take a step back.

“Who the fuck is banging on my door at this time?”

A disheveled Yennefer appeared, dark eye bags under her bright violet eyes. Her ink black hair was a mess, it almost looked like a cloud. A scowl plastered on her once beautiful face. Her breasts stood out under the black robe she was wearing, stark against her pale skin. Geralt made an effort not to look down.

“Oh.”

She squinted, her scowl twisting, and added, “It’s _you_. And—“ Her eyes drifted too Jaskier..

“Your Infamous bard.” Her face went blank then surprise mixed with a hint of worry, scanning him fully. “What the fuck happened to you? You're packed with magic, I can practically smell it on you.”

But Jaskier didn’t say anything, his ease had vanished as soon as Yennefer had opened the door. He was breathing hard now. Hyperventilating.

“Jaskier?” Geralt tried, “What—“

“No.” His blue eyes were packed with fear, “You can’t make me. I won’t let you.”

At that point, Geralt snapped. He couldn’t take the not knowing anymore, and did something he never would’ve done if he were clearly thinking. He grabbed the bard's shoulders, making him face the Witcher. He flinched back so violently, Geralt thought he might launch himself off the porch steps. But he didn’t loosen his grip.

“What, Jaskier? Can't make you what? Yennefer and I won’t do anything to hurt you. We’re here to help.” Geralt sighed his breathing thick and heavy,

“Tell me. Just tell me what happened and we can fix you. We did it last time didn’t we? And we can do it again.”

Jaskier’s harsh breathing didn’t stop, his hands were latched onto the Witcher arms as he scanned him with his wide eyes..

Wide eyes that were now crossing and rolling back into his head in a dead faint.

The bard crashed onto Geralt, who cursed and tried to hold him steady, pulling his arms around too latch onto Jaskier's under arms.

Yennefer stared open mouthed at the scene, and said her typical Yennefer of Vengerburg phrase.

“What the _Fuck?!_ ”


	4. Authors Note

Gods, I hate doing this but I it might take a bit for me too publish another chapter. I have lots of school work and thing too do before the holidays, my family is traveling. ( not very far of course because on COVID, it’s really a shame. ) hopefully I can work fast and possibly get two or three out before Christmas. Also a quick thank you for everyone who saw and left kudos on my work, it made me very excited too see that some people find pleasure in my writing, because I plan too do bunches more of it in the near future!Happy Holidays and have a Great New Year ! 

Out of very much love, 

Apollo~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and make sure too leave kudos if you enjoyed!! I’m working on making my chapters longer, something I really struggle with !! Happy reading !! ( don’t worry ! The next few chapters will be more healing than angst lol)

_The man threw Jaskier onto the cold linoleum floor. He yelped, trying to turn over but failing to because of the ropes binding his wrists behind his back. He gritted his teeth, feeling the rough leather rub painfully against his skin. That’s definitely going to leave a mark.  
_

_A few other men piled into the room. Jaskier felt waves of panic wash over him, he trashed. One of the men picked him up by the neck, not quite enough to choke, and backhanded him across the face. He saw stars as he started seeping in and out of consciousness._

_He knew he shouldn’t have left the inn the night that Geralt left. Defenseless and foolish._

_Now he was paying the price._

_Jaskier then went slack, not registering when the man holding him undid his binding and restrapped him onto a table in the middle of the dark room they were in. His head lolled to the side and he got a look out of the room. He saw uniformed guards stalking the hallways. Jaskier bet that there were also two more on either side of the doorway. He saw guards that he recognized from his last kidnapping, but a good quarter of them were unrecognizable. Jaskier couldn’t help but think, Is this what Geralt was talking about? Why there were so many Nilfgaardian troops in multiple towns this season?_

_Jaskier stopped thinking about questions he didn’t have the answers to, and he stopped thinking about the Witcher. Not wanting to think about what he might do if Geralt didn’t show up this time, didn’t save him._

_No. He would. Jaskier was sure of it._

_Jaskier distracted himself by looking back at the men who had just manhandled him. They were filling out of the room now, and Jaskier couldn’t read their faces. Anxiety roiled in his chest. The door didn’t close behind them, instead a mage with green eyes stepped inside gracefully and shut the door softly._

_She had long dark brown hair, and soft pink lips, she wasn't wearing the Nilfgaardian uniform, but a plain white blouse and black skirt that didn’t reach her knees. The mage looked freakishly human, like a young school teacher._

_“I don’t remember you Oxenfurt, Were you my English teacher?” Jaskier joked, trying too stretch up despite his restraints and squinted. He knew it was a dumb thing too do but he didn’t like the intense gaze the mage was giving him._

_She didn’t answer._

_The mage's hand slid from the doorframe, and she glided over to the bard. All of her movements were fluid and unwavering. For some reason that seemed to terrify Jaskier even further, and he keeled away from her as best he could._

_“You needn’t be afraid, Julian.” She stood beside the table and brought her hand up, sliding her thumb across Jaskier’s cheek. Her hand was small and seemingly harmless, but he knew it could take lives away with one move. He wished he could cut them off._

_He froze then, realizing what she had said._

_“Don’t call me that.”_

_“What?”_

_“That’s not my name.”_

_Her peaceful expression vanished, Turning tight and annoyed. She stopped brushing his cheek and tightened her grip on his jaw. Hard enough to bruise. He winced, Her brown hair fell into her face as she looked down at him._

_“Julian Alfred Pankratz. Discount de Lettenhove. You were so beautiful, once.” Her voice was slickly and smooth, much like the rest of her character._

_Jaskier scoffed, suddenly feeling offended. “I wasn’t. I was a dumb kid with daddy issues. is that your type? Because I can hook you up with a few people I know.” He grimaced, looking at the mage with a serious expression. A creeping sense of unease riled in his stomach as he realized what she had just said once again._

_“How would you know that, anyways? You didn’t know me when I was younger.”_

_The mage continued her habit of not answering him. Cocking her head to one side, eyes like daggers. “You’re pathetic now. You gave up a rich life of prosperity and happiness for what? To be trapped in a prison for information that you won’t give up because of your precious Witcher? Fine, have it your way.”  
_

_She turned away and went somewhere behind him. Leaving him too scrunch up his face and let the hurt her words had caused to filter through his body. He had never thought of it that way. Well, he had never thought of it any way. He never felt regret for leaving his parents, and he sure wasn’t going to start now._

_When she came back to the side of the table, the mage had a metal rod in her delicate hands. Jaskier panicked, struggling against his binds. The mage blinked an unseeing eye at his misery, placing the bar directly onto his kneecap._

_“It hurts less if you count down from one thousand, and if you stop your squirming. But, I won’t hurt you at all if you tell me….” She bent down into the crook of Jaskier’s neck. He felt her breathing on his pale skin. She whispered what she wanted, though her words seemed too echo in the small room. Jaskier took a sharp breath in._

_She stepped away from him, the metal still resting upon his leg. “So? Are you going to tell me?” Her eyes were dark, he took back his comment about her looking like a school teacher. She looked out for his blood now._

_He pressed his lips together tightly._

_He shook his head._

_The mage couldn’t have looked more annoyed. “My commander won’t be happy about this.”_

_She lifted the bar, and Jaskier felt bile rising in his throat._

_“Shit! Fuck please— you can’t— you can’t—” he thrashed, feeling the panic and fear crashing down again all at once._

_“Oh Julian,” she looked down upon him, real sympathy and sadness looked like it clouded her expression. Jaskier drank it in._

_“The problem is that I absolutely can.”_

_”And I will.”_

_And she brought the bar down in a smooth arch._

_Shattering his leg._

_Someone screamed, a piercing scream, and Jaskier felt sorry for that person. He didn’t have time to realize that the person was none other than himself until the bliss of unconsciousness swept in and pulled him away._

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Geralt watched silently in a chair as Yennefer vomited into a chamber pot besides Jaskier’s bed. His stomach churned, wondering what she saw.

After Jaskier had fainted, Geralt had carried the bard to the guest room, where Yennefer had laid him on the bed and taken off his shoes and clothes. He told Yennefer about what had happened as she examined his naked body, checking for any other injuries. Geralt had averted his eyes.

“So you're saying he was… ?” Yennefer trailed off, she was running her hands on his bard’s chest, checking for any rib fractures that had not been healed correctly.

“I’m saying I highly suspect it.”

“No need to be rude.”

“How the hell am I being rude?”

“Well! You get nicely invited into my home, then get _all_ smug—“ She cut off abruptly and gasped as she flipped Jaskier over onto his stomach. Geralt could help but move his eyes too see what she was seeing. There were dark blue and purple bruises around the curve of Jaskier’s back, all the way down to his arse.

Yennefer’s face got hard and held fury within it. Geralt was pretty sure this was the same for him.

“Fuck. I wish I could kill all of those bastards.” Yennefer said darkly.

“You think I _don’t_?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

A tense silence.

”Hmm.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*

“I’m fine.”

Yennefer wiped her face off with a clean wet rag then threw it into the rubbish bin. “I only had access to one of his memories. The others were… blocked off. Repressed.” She looked down at the now cleaned chamber pot and raised a confused eyebrow too herself.

“What was it?” Geralt grunted, fighting with the anger in his chest.

“What was what?” Yennefer stalled.

”The _memory_ , you dumbass.”

“Is it really my story to tell?”

  
He glared, “It is if it comes down to getting my bard back.”

Yennefer scoffed, “You're really attached to this fellow aren’t you?”

Geralt waited.

The sorceress’s faces smoothed and tightened immediately. “There was a mage.”

“One that we know?”

“No. I didn’t recognize her from anywhere, though she seemed to be a higher up in the Nilfgaardian army.”

“How so?”

Yennefer looked annoyed, staring down the Witcher. “Do I look like I magically collect information? I don’t know.”

“Hmmm. What did she do to Jaskier?” Geralt clenched his fists.

Yennefer averted her eyes. “Well, she started saying all this shit about his life before he became a bard, and then…” she trailed off.

“And then what?”

“Well.. then she completely shattered his kneecap.” Yennefer bit out.

Geralt's hand twitched violently for his swords, he gritted his teeth. The anger he felt almost made his whole body shake, his eyes narrowed. “Then how was he able to walk? Let alone stand?”

Yennefer let her voice filter once again into a joking tone.

“Geralt dear, your anger is making you a bigger idiot than you usually are.” Yennefer sighed, “It’s clear that she used magic to heal him. It wasn’t perfect, and some bones healed and set wrong. Nothing I can’t fix in a couple of days.”

Geralt let out a breath, letting himself relax a little. Progress. That’s what he was working towards.

“But, then, what do we do about—“

the Witcher stopped, and the mage tensed. Both turned towards the rustling of sheets they heard in the middle of the room. After Yennefer had tended and bandaged up the bruises and cuts on Jaskier’s lower half, she had thrown the sheets over him so her and Geralt could talk. And now he was waking, tossing and prying his eyes open. Yennefer looked at him, a look that clearly said, “Do something you oaf! He’s your bard, not mine!” And he knew she was right.

He sighed and got up, stepping towards his bard.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my socials 💞
> 
> Insta: sydneyherondale_
> 
> TikTok: simpforjaskierthebard


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